Believe what you want to believe

by George Williams

  Chapter 6

  True Colors

  One of the first occasions that Ziggy showed his true colors was when I caught him melting down my mother's sterling silver silverware set to make jewelry. It was a brisk fall day and I had just walked home from one of my first days of second grade. I walked into Jason’s room, plopped down my jacket and saw Ziggy sitting on a wooden chair. He held a candle and my mom’s fine sterling silverware spoon in his hands.

  “What are you doing to Ma’s spoon?” I asked.

  “I’m using it to make jewelry. I’m a machinist; that’s what we do. We work with metals, Sport.”

  “Ma loves those spoons. Did she give them to you?”

  He replied, “Oh she told me I could take these. But hey, Sport, if you promise not to talk about this to anyone, I will give you a really cool present! How’s that sound?” Confused, I nodded my head in agreement.

  Then he rummaged through his nightstand and took out a captivating miniature wooden telescope that stretched long and far, resembling the one you see in the Pirates of the Caribbean movie. “Whooaaaa! I’ve never had anything this cool,” I thought.

  Ziggy handed it over and I put my eye up to the scope. “Everything is so clear!” I said out loud.

  Ziggy said, “Take a look out the window! You can see for a whole mile!”

  “Cool!” I said. “I’m like a pirate!”

  He laughed along and said, “Yep it’s all yours if we can keep our little secret about the spoons.” I nodded in agreement.

  A few days later I was bored and decided to look out the upstairs side window with my new telescope. The windows were kind of high and at eight years old, I barely reached the bottom of the window sill. When I gazed into the lense, I could see across the pond where the ducks were, across the river and up the hill into a large brick apartment building complex where I could peer right into the large picture windows. It was honestly surprising how powerful this thing was.

  I was just enjoying taking in the scenery when I noticed a man with a large camera on a tripod looking back at me. I wasn’t sure if he could see me but I could certainly see him pointing the camera down at our driveway towards the motorcycle gang. Looking closer, I noticed that he was taking pictures of everyone coming and going. Puzzled, I decided to ask Janie to confirm that she saw the same thing. “Janie, come over here! Check this out. There’s a guy up there looking at our house!”

  Janie looked through the telescope and said, “What’s he doing? Let’s show Ziggy. I will get him!” So she ran across the house all excited to tell Ziggy about what we just saw. I was still checking the strange man out when Ziggy came up from behind, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “What are you looking at, Sport?”

  I replied, “A man up there is looking at us. Look for yourself!”

  Ziggy’s eyebrows narrowed as he peered through the telescope, speculating. “Do you know who that is?” I asked. Then he held his chin briefly, grinded his teeth, smiled and mumbled a bit.

  He replied, “Okay. Listen to me, Sport. I want you two to stay right here in this spot. Just don't take your eyes off the telescope; I want to make sure you see this.”

  Before we know it, Ziggy was recruiting one of the motorcycle gang members to go with him on his quest over to the apartments. “Let’s go, Gill!” I heard Ziggy yell and they bolted out the door.

  I said to Janie, “Ziggy seemed kind of mad. Maybe we shouldn’t have said anything.” Janie looked concerned too but she comforted me by saying, “Maybe they are just going to talk.” I had a bad gut feeling though.

  Watching intently through the telescope, my sister and I could see clearly into the apartment where we caught a glimpse of the watching man opening the door and Ziggy forcing himself in. Things escalated violently as Ziggy immediately tackled him and beat him over and over again with his bare fists. My sister and I watched it all happen through the scope. Our hearts beat fast, but we could not stop watching as it became a brutal bloodbath. The man put up a fight then slowly stopped moving completely.

  “Is he dead?” I asked Janie. She looked through the telescope and said, “I don’t know. He’s not moving.”

  Right behind the brick apartment building lies a cliff with a river about fifty or sixty feet below. We witnessed Ziggy and the motorcycle man carry the limp body outside and toss it ruthlessly out in the river below. If he was not already dead, the impact certainly killed him. Not knowing what to do or say, my sister and I were in shock after witnessing this savage beating. We didn’t speak. We both just dropped to the floor and stared blankly at the ceiling.

  Now we saw Ziggy in a completely different light. Why the hell did he want us to watch this? Terrified, we kept our mouths shut for the rest of the night. Judging by his demeanor towards us, he knew that we witnessed the murder.

  Knowing Jason and our parents wouldn’t believe us if we told them what we saw, Janie and I set out for proof of the crime by going out to the river bank the next morning. The water was only ankle deep in some spots as it was drought season. We saw the dead man's body lying face down in the river bed on the shallow rocks under the bridge, hidden from plain sight. Janie screamed, but I covered her mouth before anyone could hear her say, “It’s real!” as tears flooded down her cheeks. We were banking on our eyes playing tricks on us, but the reality was that this actually happened.

  “Who is this guy?” I asked. Janie said, “Wait, his wallet is still in his back pocket. Let’s take it out and figure out who he is.” We crouched down and removed his wallet to find a badge inside. The badge was gold, very large and shaped like a star with writing in the middle. With that as evidence, we gathered he was some type of cop or private detective.

  “That’s not good...”I said nervously. Maybe he was a good guy.

  “I’m really scared, Sean. Let’s get out of here,” Janie whimpered. So we took the man’s wallet and ran back towards home.

  When we got home, we contemplated our next move and tried to figure out what we should do with the wallet. After getting nowhere, Janie suggested, “Let’s go see the body again. Maybe then we’ll know what to do.”

  When we got to the river, we were shocked. The body was gone. “What is going on?” I asked Janie. “Did we imagine this whole thing?”

  “Do you think Ziggy knows we took his wallet with his badge? Maybe we should put it back in the river...”

  “Yea, we should,” Janie said, and we put it back to get it off our hands.

  We were still scratching our heads as to why Ziggy wanted us to witness this horrible incident. Later that night Janie and I saw Ziggy with the man's camera and gun. The next day we came across the camera on the tool bench under a drop cloth in the cellar.

  “Open it and see if there’s film inside!” Janie said. As I opened it, we saw it was empty. “Ziggy is getting rid of the evidence!”

  So it was confirmed: we hadn’t hallucinated. At this point we were very scared about what we knew. Would we be next? We decided not to talk about it or tell anyone.

  A few days after the “incident,” Ziggy rolled in with a brand new orange Dodge pickup truck. I asked him, “Where did you get the new truck?”

  “Well, Sport, I received it in a settlement from a bad car accident I was in. I was with two friends. We were fighting over the front seat so we decided to flip a coin. I lost so I had to sit in the back. My friends were drinking and we were going over a hundred miles per hour when the car flipped over on Franklin Street in Quincy. Both the driver and the other passenger were killed instantly. When they found me, Sport, I was dead too. I’m not afraid of dying though. They were able to get my pulse back and I was in the hospital for a long time. Since I broke my neck in the crash, the surgeons had to remove a couple of bones so it would heal properly. That’s why I can’t spin my head around to look behind me. I have to turn my whole body. I am not afraid of dying. It was kind of peaceful when I was dead. I used my money for a memorial for my friends and the ci
ty let me put it in the park near the accident scene so we can remember them. It took a few years but finally the insurance company reached a settlement with me and I got this truck. Regardless of the accident, Sport, I am in great shape.”

  Then he began to show off, doing pushups on his thumbs and toes. Janie and I attempted to do the pushups as well. Turns out, they are a lot harder than they look.

  He seemed to be in a good mood. Like he was a little more relaxed. Was it the new truck? Or did murder have that effect on him?

  We continued to keep what happened by the river to ourselves and went on as normal kids, just with a heavy secret. We pretended and acted like nothing ever happened and with a murderer living under our roof, that was probably the safest way to stay alive.

  Chapter 7

  School’s out

  Life returned to normal for a little while as second grade wound down, but I couldn’t expect that to last long. I began a regular routine at school of dodging bullies and turning in half-completed homework. Things were going well for a few months. Then one day my parents asked Ziggy to pick us up from school. Janie and I had a dentist appointment and they were busy attending an important business meeting.

  My mother wrote the school a note stating that, “Marc Sacco (Ziggy) is a trusted friend of the family and he will pick Sean and Janie up from school today.” Little did my parents know that he modified the note and scribbled “Marc Sacco will be picking Sean and Janie up from school on a regular basis.”

  The second time he picked us up was around ten am on an early spring day. Confused as to why he picked us up so early, we got in his truck and asked, “Where are we going?”

  He replied, “It’s a surprise...”

  Before I knew it, we were back at my parents’ house. So much for a surprise. He sat us at the kitchen table with a couple of sketch pads and told us to draw. About an hour went by before he came back and took Janie upstairs with him.

  He told me in a whisper so Janie wouldn’t hear, “Whatever noise you hear, just stay down here and draw. Don’t go upstairs.” This wasn’t a statement; it was a warning.

  In about ten minutes I heard Janie screaming my name for help. “Sean, helpppp!”

  I bolted upstairs to the end of the long hall and to the bedroom they were in. “Shoot, the door is locked,” I said out loud. Luckily, I knew the safety pin trick. We kept a pin by the door in the corner, just in case. As I jostled the door open, I faced Ziggy, who looked surprised. Sheepishly, he smiled and said, “Sport, I told you not to come up here!”

  Then my stomach dropped as I noticed Janie was topless and fighting with an unfamiliar, stocky and well-tanned bald man. In an attempt to liberate Janie, I punched Ziggy as hard as I could. Unfortunately, I was no match for his strength as he shoved me so hard that I smashed into the wall and fell to the floor. Feeling resilient, I found the courage to pull myself up and charge full force after the bald man. Seeing me coming, he balled up his fist and sucker punched me in the gut. I hit the floor again, this time harder.

  In the meantime, Janie was still screaming for her life and I became desperate to stop them. Fueled by adrenaline, I went primal, this time punching and kicking them both at maximum capacity. At this point, Janie and I were too much to handle. As soon as one of us was held down, the other one got loose.

  Since they were high on heroin, their thinking wasn’t clear. They made a quick decision that they would be able to control us if they were to shoot us up as well. I was first and Janie was second. As soon as the needle hit my veins, I felt a warm, smooth feeling entering my bloodstream. Then I was falling and sinking into a pit of nothingness and ultimately I felt paralysis. I felt no emotion on heroin. No happiness or sadness, just nothing. Janie lay next to me, going through the same motions. We both stared lifelessly at the cracks in the ceiling before blacking out completely.

  Some time had passed before I regained consciousness. I heard Ziggy talking to a third man in the hallway. It was Wade Johnson (another addict from two houses up the street). Wade and Ziggy were arguing about measurements.

  “We need them to come off the dope in small doses or they could die. I have a medical book that explains how it's done, at home.”

  “What are you waiting for? Run and get it!” Ziggy yelled to Wade who was already halfway out the door.

  Before exiting, Wade looked over to Janie and me and said, “I’m sorry kids...”

  Later that day Wade returned with the book. Since it didn't have a formula for our weight, they were confused on how to wean us off the drugs. I guess the guy who wrote this medical book didn’t figure someone would shoot up children. They argued again until they made a decision they thought might save us.

  Before I knew it, Janie and I were receiving another shot. I watched Ziggy put the drug on a spoon, heat it over a candle and pour it into the syringe. This time I was numb and the needle didn’t hurt. My vision got blurry and voices sounded muffled. Then I heard Wade say, “You know they will need one more shot later tonight.” Ziggy just nodded.

  After the second shot, I found the strength to stand on my feet again. Leaning against the bed frame, I was confused and messed up. Right when I thought this nightmare was coming to an end, it seemed to take a turn for the worse.

  An unknown tall blonde man entered the room. He was out of breath and yelled to Ziggy, “I heard what you were doing and I am going to get those kids out of here!”

  Ziggy responded, “Oh yea, take them...”

  The man disarmed to his calm demeanor and looked over at Janie and me. He felt pity for us, there’s no doubt. A few moments of diversion was enough time for Ziggy to yank the knife out of his belt. Then he twisted his body towards the man and stabbed him in the chest. Ziggy missed his heart as the man continued to fight back. His shirt absorbed the blood before it dripped to the floor. Regardless, he continued to fight for his life. A merciless dance of feeble struggle took place before Ziggy gained full dominance and pierced his throat.

  “Our rescuer is dead.”

  Ziggy wiped his nose and stood proud over his kill. You could tell this was his moment of greatness. This was what Ziggy was good at. Killing people...

  He left the gory body on the floor in front of us. When Wade approached the room and saw the bloodbath, he immediately started puking on the floorboard. Janie and I directly faced the man who just tried to save us and got his throat slit as a result. We looked into his lifeless eyes as we lay hopelessly on the floor. Shock was overcoming us.

  A few minutes had passed before Ziggy started accusing Wade of telling people about us. “You just got that guy killed, you know? That was your doing! Another word to anyone and I will blame this all on you and tell Jason you stole his drugs. He’ll take care of you.”

  Wade threw his arms up and yelled, “Okay, I’m leaving. Don’t hurt me!” as he backed out of the room, his eyes fixed on Ziggy’s knife.

  There was no time to dispose of the body. Everyone would be home soon. Since there would be too many witnesses, Ziggy placed the dead man in the closet and covered him with a blanket.

  Once the drugs were wearing off, Janie dared to confront Ziggy.

  She stood up and said, “I am going to tell Jason everything you did to us and that you stole his drugs!”

  Defying a sociopath was clearly a mistake as he jerked her frail body down the hall and lunged her head deep into the toilet bowl. He began flushing multiple times, attempting to drown her. I watched powerless, screaming as loud as I could for him to stop hurting my sister! Then we heard the door open. Ziggy pulled Janie’s head out of the bowl in time for her to gasp for air and regurgitate the toilet bowl water. Jason walked right into the hysteria.

  “What the hell are you doing, Ziggy? You are killing her,” Jason declared.

  Ziggy reacted quickly. “I caught her flushing your stash down the toilet. At least half is gone and she needed to be taught a lesson...”

  “Alright, next time tell me, and I w
ill handle it. Don’t try to drown her,” Jason replied.

  Later that night, I had a bad fever from the drug withdrawal. I was much worse than Janie, since I was so underweight, and it was killing me. I had the chills and my parents were convinced I had caught the flu. My parents put me in their bed on the first floor so they could take care of me.

  After lying in agony for what seemed like eternity, I heard the phone ring. My mother replied, “Hello Father Paul, nice of you to call.”

  Father Paul replied, “It's urgent. I need to come over for dinner to discuss your husband's drinking problem and the church.”

  Yearning for help with my dad's drinking, my mother accepted his self-invitation.

  “I’ll see you tonight, Father Paul,” replied my mother.

  As the evening came, Father Paul attended dinner with my parents while I continued to battle the drug flu in my parents’ room. As Father Paul was getting ready to leave, he told my parents he would say a prayer for me. When he entered the bedroom, he started praying out loud and took a needle from a little black bag.

  Nervous about another dose, I said, “You’re not a doctor.”

  His response was, “Sometimes priests can be doctors,” as he injected me and the drug entered my bloodstream.

  Suddenly, I was back in la-la land as I watched Father Paul float out, one foot above the floor and out the front door.

  Chapter 8

  Hollywood

  The next day I went to school, still confused about what actually happened to us.

  On the playground at recess, one of my friends was talking about muscles and said, “Sean's got muscles. Look at his veins sticking out of his skin! It looks like he's a drug user.”

  He was comparing the track marks on my arm to those of his older brother who had a serious drug problem. Nervously, I pulled my sleeves down to cover my track marks up. Most people don’t think about trying heroin ever, never mind in the third grade.